Page 37

EDEN

Eight Months Later…

I stretch out on the pristine white sand, soaking in the warmth of the Mexican sun. The private beach at our resort feels like another world compared to the gritty carnival grounds I’ve called home for the past nine months.

“Enjoying yourself, little stalker?” Remy’s deep voice sends shivers down my spine as he settles beside me on the lounger.

“Mmm. Though I still can’t believe you actually took time off.” I face him, admiring how the sun gleams off his tattooed chest. “The carnival...”

“Is in good hands with Ty and the crew.” He hands me a fresh margarita. “Besides, you earned this after that cleanup job last month.”

I take a sip, remembering how I’d helped orchestrate the cover story when things got messy with a rival operation. My podcast had proven invaluable for misdirection, and my criminal psychology background gave our crew an edge they hadn’t expected.

“I never thought I’d find someone who understands both sides of me.” I trace a finger along one of his tattoos. “The professional podcaster and the darkness underneath.”

Remy catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “You were made for this life, Eden. For me.” His eyes darken with possession. “Though I still can’t believe you used to stalk me.”

I let out a small gasp as Remy’s lips trail down my neck, his strong hands gripping my hips. The sound of waves crashing against the shore fades into background noise as my pulse quickens.

“Anyone could walk by,” I whisper, though I know this stretch of beach is practically deserted.

“Let them.” His voice rumbles against my skin as he pulls me onto his lap. The rough fabric of his swim trunks creates delicious friction against my bikini bottoms. “I love watching you try to stay quiet.”

My fingers dig into his shoulders as he nips at my collarbone. The heat between us has nothing to do with the Mexican sun beating down on our skin. Remy’s hands slide up my back, toying with my bikini strings.

“You’re mine,” he growls, grinding me against his growing hardness. “Every inch of you belongs to me now.”

“Yes,” I breathe, arching into his touch. The possessiveness in his voice makes me dizzy with need. I’d dreamed of this during those weeks of watching him from afar—being claimed, owned, consumed by his darkness.

His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. “My beautiful little stalker.” His teeth graze my pulse point. “So perfect for me.”

I roll my hips against him, drawing a harsh groan from his chest. The lounger creaks beneath us as Remy’s grip tightens, sure to leave bruises. Just how I like it.

“Please,” I whimper as his free hand slides up my thigh.

“Beg prettier than that, Eden.”

I gasp as Remy’s fingers slide beneath my bikini bottoms, teasing but not giving me what I need. The sun beats down on my exposed skin as I writhe in his lap, desperate for more contact.

“Please, Remy. I need you.” My voice comes out breathless, needy. “Make me yours.”

His dark chuckle vibrates against my throat. “You’re already mine, little stalker. Have been since the first time I caught you watching me.” His thumb circles my clit, making me buck against his hand. “Remember how wet you got, hiding in the shadows while I worked?”

“Yes,” I moan, remembering those early days of obsession. How I’d sneak around the carnival grounds, camera in hand, collecting evidence of his criminal activities while secretly fantasizing about him catching me. “I wanted you so badly.”

“And now?” His fingers press inside me, curling just right. “Tell me what you want now.”

I clutch his shoulders, grinding down on his hand. “I want you to fuck me. Right here, where anyone could see.” The thrill of potential discovery makes my inner walls clench around his fingers. “Show everyone who I belong to.”

Remy growls, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss. His teeth catch my lower lip as he withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty and aching. The loss only lasts a moment before he shifts me, positioning me exactly how he wants me on top of him.

“Such a good girl,” he croons against my lips. “My perfect little stalker, so desperate for my cock.”

I whimper as he pushes my bikini bottoms aside, the head of his cock teasing my entrance. The beach stretches empty in both directions, but the possibility of being caught makes everything more intense.

The sun beats down on my exposed skin while his hands grip my hips, controlling my movements.

“That’s it,” he growls against my neck. “Take all of me.”

My nails dig into his shoulders as I sink down onto him completely. The position leaves me vulnerable, exposed to anyone who might walk by our secluded stretch of beach. The thought only heightens my arousal.

“Please,” I whimper, trying to move faster. But Remy’s grip keeps me still, forcing me to feel every inch of him.

“Patience.” His teeth graze my throat. “I love watching you squirm.”

I clench around him, drawing a harsh groan from his chest. His control slips just enough for me to roll my hips, taking him deeper.

“Fuck,” he hisses, one hand sliding up to tangle in my hair. “You’re so perfect for me.”

The lounger creaks beneath us as Remy finally allows me to move. I ride him slowly at first, savoring the delicious friction. His free hand slips between us, finding my clit with practiced ease.

“Such a good slut,” he praises, watching me fall apart. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

I increase my pace, chasing my release. Remy’s fingers work magic on my sensitive flesh while his cock hits that perfect spot inside me. The combination of pleasure and exposure pushes me closer to the edge.

“I’m close,” I pant, grinding down harder. “Please, Remy.”

His grip tightens in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. “Come for me, Eden. Let the entire population of fucking Mexico hear who you belong to.”

I cry out as my orgasm crashes through me, my inner walls clenching around Remy’s thick length. The sun blazes against my exposed skin as I ride out the waves of pleasure, his fingers still working my clit.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hips snapping up to meet mine. “Take what you need.”

Aftershocks ripple through me. Remy’s grip on my hair tightens, keeping me exactly where he wants me as he chases his release. The position leaves me completely at his mercy, just how I like it.

“Mine,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasp, still sensitive from my orgasm. “Always yours.”

Remy groans, pulling me down for a bruising kiss as he comes deep inside me. His free hand grips my hip hard enough to leave marks, marking me as his property. The thought makes me clench around him again.

We stay like that for a moment, catching our breath as the waves crash against the shore. Remy’s hands soften their grip, one sliding up to cup my face while the other traces patterns on my lower back.

“My beautiful little stalker,” he murmurs against my lips. The tenderness in his touch contrasts beautifully with the gravelly tone of his voice.

The Mexican sun continues to warm my skin as I rest my head on Remy’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. His fingers thread through my hair, gentle now where they were demanding moments before.

I trace lazy patterns on Remy’s chest as we bask in the afterglow, the sound of waves creating a peaceful backdrop. His fingers continue gentle strokes through my hair, so different from his usual possessive grip.

“I used to dream about moments like this,” I confess softly. “Back when I was stalking you, I’d imagine what it would be like to be close to you. But the reality...” I press a kiss on his chest. “It’s so much more than I ever fantasized.”

Remy’s hand stills in my hair. “You know what terrifies me?” His voice carries an unusual vulnerability. “How much I need you. Not just want—need. I’ve never needed anyone before.”

I lift my head to meet his gaze, finding honesty in his dark gaze. “I understand that feeling. For years, I studied killers, trying to understand the darkness inside me. But with you...” I cup his face. “I don’t have to hide or pretend. You see all of me—the professional facade and the twisted inclinations underneath.”

“You’re the first person who’s ever looked at the monster in me and smiled.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “Everyone else either runs or tries to change me. But you...” He shakes his head. “You embrace it. Encourage it.”

“Because your darkness calls to mine.” I press closer, feeling his heartbeat against my chest. “We’re the same, Remy.”

His arms tighten around me, protective rather than possessive. “I never thought I’d find someone who understands both sides of me. The business side and the violence.” He presses his forehead to mine. “You make me feel whole.”

The confession hangs between us, heavy with meaning. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion. “I love you,” I whisper. “All of you.”

Who would have thought my obsession with documenting killers would lead me here? I went from studying criminal psychology to finding someone who embodies it. My podcast gave me the perfect cover to explore that darkness to get close to the subjects that fascinated me.

I smile, remembering how I hid in the shadows with my camera, capturing evidence of his criminal activities while secretly yearning for him to catch me. I felt jealous when I found those photos and that chat log with “Baby Girl,” which I now know had meant nothing. It was merely a distraction from his isolation and loneliness.

I’m integral to those same operations, using my psychology background and media influence to protect our enterprise. My obsession has evolved into something deeper and more complete.

My fingers find the scar on his ribs, a reminder of the night he took down a pissed-off client who tried to kill him. I’d helped clean and stitch that wound, my hands steady despite the blood. That’s when I knew my place wasn’t just studying killers from afar. It was here, beside one, matching his darkness with my own.